


Fly, Phoenix, Fly

by sunnyskipper



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Gen, Mentioned Wilbur Soot, Protective Sam | Awesamdude, Swearing, TommyInnit-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Winged Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Winged TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:22:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29578818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnyskipper/pseuds/sunnyskipper
Summary: Tommy has gone through a lot in the span of roughly over a year, he's gone through far more wars than any child should, but he's always come out on top. He has his discs back, Dream is in prison, Sam is helping him build this epic hotel and there's this thing called the "Eggpire" going on and spreading through the SMP,  but he's not too concerned.He's going to stay out of conflict, that chapter in his life has finally closed. Sure, there are some things left unfinished, but he doesn't care, but right now, all he wants is to open his grand hotel and grant everyone a safe haven.That shouldn't be too hard.
Comments: 20
Kudos: 255





	1. What are you willing to lose?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> little heads up for the gore / graphic warning, that's only for the next chapter, the rest is fine! ^^

At age sixteen, nearing seventeen, Tommy has had his fair share of wars and conflict that'll last him a lifetime. He's been through multiple wars, he's lost two out of three of his canon lives, has been exiled from the only place he cares about twice, and has suffered through unresolved trauma he chooses to keep to himself. It's... fine, he doesn't have to worry about that anymore.

Things get a little lonely, though. He's home again, L'manberg has been lost for the last time, but he still has his little dirt shack that's quite comfortable. It's fine, he likes it, he doesn't need anyone's pity when he's just relieved to have made it out alive and still has a roof over his head. 

Life's alright, it's been... how long, since his face-off with Dream? The concept of time has drifted from him, but he guesses it's been a few weeks by now. Huh, time sure does fly by fast... he's only visited that asshole once, and he doesn't plan on doing it again anytime soon. He kept up a brave facade, but he'd be lying if he said his heart didn't skip a beat a couple times, or the voices in the back of his mind warned him to leave immediately. He stayed, though, and not much happened... surprisingly. 

He has to admit, the place is a bit inhumane, but... Dream planned on putting _him_ in it after killing Tubbo in cold blood. That thought still sends shivers down his spine to this day, remembering how close it came to becoming a reality. If Punz hadn't accepted his offer and commanded the citizens of the SMP to ambush Dream, they... no, he'd rather not think about it.

It's a bright, sunny day, he doesn't have anything to worry about but the opening of his hotel to look forward to. Dream isn't escaping anytime soon, Sam will make sure of that, and... Sam isn't too bad, although he intimidated Tommy a little during the prison visit, he especially appreciates his "alter-ego", Sam Nook who has been working on the hotel.

This "Eggpire" thing is supposedly turning into a problem, he's investigated it before when Sam Nook asked him to. People either despise it, or adore it and... for some reason, it didn't affect him in any way, he was neutral. Sam Nook saved him and Tubbo from Bad and Antfrost once, they tried to trap him and get him to "love" the egg, and... that wasn't pleasant. 

Recently, Sam Nook requested of him to destroy the egg, but... he couldn't. It wasn't actually hurting anybody, at least no one that he cared about, Tubbo, Techno, Phil... he only really cares about Tubbo. Tubbo, his closest friend, and could even be considered a brother, their relationship has been put to the test these past few weeks, it's strained and until recently, was on the verge of breaking. It's still wounded, and needs time to heal, they need time to heal. 

It's in the past, now, the whole exile and Dream, he doesn't blame Tubbo anymore, and at no point he did. They've been through thick and thin together, but those desperate times of sorrow and bloodshed have run their course. It's over. 

Tommy lays still in his bed, staring up at the blank ceiling for the past few minutes. He should check up on Sam, the hotel should be done soon, and he can't wait. He isn't excited, however, lying on his back he doesn't feel anything, his mind is empty and his eyes are tired. He doesn't blink, as if afraid he'll fall asleep. It's early morning, he can sleep in for a little... but despite feeling tired, he knows he won't be able to. 

He shifts, shrugging his shoulders and he winches at the unusual pain attacking his back. He groans, quickly sitting up, his body hunches up and he takes a few seconds to fully wake up. He slithers a hand under his shirt and up his back, and his hands fly back at a sudden, burning sensation. 

He jumps off the bed and reaches his hands behind his back, trying to touch the area again whilst turning his head and trying to see it as well. As he struggles, something else catches his attention, his eyes flickering to his bed, his blood runs cold. There's small spots of blood on his white bed covers, clear as day. Did he... did he burn his back or something?

He quickly rules that out; it hurts, but not _that_ bad, he'd be writhering in agonizing pain. There's no way for him to burn himself, either, so that isn't the problem... but why is there blood on his bed, and what's wrong with his back?

Unfortunately, he can't see it for himself, his body simply won't twist that way. He isn't on literal fire, it's still hot to the touch, but the temperature is steadily dropping, and it leaves him baffled. What the hell is going on?

He needs someone to check it out, but Tubbo is all the way in Snowchester, he doesn't know that for sure but it's most likely. He claims it isn't a Government, but just a small community, his home, but... Tommy rejected his offer to live there. Whether it has a Government or not, he'd rather stay away, just to be safe. Tubbo didn't understand his reasoning at first, but he came around.

He's pretty much the only person Tommy can trust, there's still Puffy, and Sam... but he isn't going to bother them with stupid shit. His back hurts, that's all, he can either leave it be or head over to Snowchester and have Tubbo take a look at it. He's hoping he's already somewhere nearby and will appear out of thin air at the call of his name, as per usual.

Tommy sighs, shaking his head and clearing his thoughts, he pulls down his shirt and adjusts the collar. If he's heading to Snowchester, it's literally ice and snow there, he'll freeze to death. He doesn't have any jackets, asides from... Wilbur's old one from Pogtopia, but it isn't exactly in the best condition, and he hasn't worn it since his exile days, when Techno took him in he gave him his old Antarctic Empire uniform. It got "accidentally" burnt to ashes after Doomsday. 

Whatever, the cold doesn't bother him anyways. He'll be fine, but he needs to get a move on, his back is starting to burn again and he concluded he won't be able to ignore it; it hurts too much. "Shit..."

He grumbles to himself, stretching a bit the pain only worsens. Okay, he definitely needs someone to check it out, and soon. With that, he made his way through the house and stepping outside, the harsh wind blew and crashed against him. He shivered, cursing under his breath, and continued down the path. Snowchester is so, so far away... if only it was raining, he could use his trident, but alas, the skies are clear. Oh well.

He finds himself alone as he walks through the community, he hasn't interacted with too many people, they don't particularly enjoy his company. That's alright, he doesn't exactly like having them around, either, he's completely fine on his own. One foot after the other, he stares down at the prime path he travels down, delving into his own thoughts. It's been some time since he talked with Tubbo, a day, or two, which would normally be unusual. Since the grave encounter with Dream, they've... been distant. A talk could do them good, a few maybe, let it all out...

But that isn't something he wants to do, it'll only complicate things. There are things that are better left unsaid, for both of their sake's, but mostly Tubbo's. 

This is just one, quick meet-up, nothing will change. On second thought, his back doesn't hurt that much─oh, no, nevermind. He clenches his jaw and digs his teeth into his bottom lip, which he instantly regrets as he only inflicts more pain on himself. "Shit, crap," he cusses, balling his hands into loose fists. This is really getting on his nerves, the quicker he gets this over with, the better, even if it means bothering Tubbo. 

Having been lost in thought, he didn't notice he neared Sam Nook and the hotel until he lifted his head, and locked eyes with the man, creeper-hybrid, or... raccoon dog? Considering he's Sam _Nook._ With that in mind, he forgot to brace himself.

"HELLO TOMMYINNIT, DEVELOPMENT ON THE INNIT HOTEL IS GOING ALONG WELL, THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR ASSISTANCE. IS THERE ANYTHING I CAN HELP YOU WITH?"

The booming animal chattering never fails to catch him off guard, and he sends a message via communicator so Tommy can understand him. Tommy sighs, running his hand through his hair, "yeah, yeah... It's nothing, I was just..." he trails off, lowering his hand to see a red feather in it. Huh? He runs his fingers through his hair again, where did a feather come from?

"IS EVERYTHING OKAY?"

Tommy jumped that time, he shakes his head and sighs. "I'm fine," he answers, seeing that the red feather has fallen out his hand and floated down to the ground, resting by his feet. "My back just hurts, that's all," he says, bending down to pick up the feather, but a sharp stabbing sensation stops him halfway. "Fuck!"

Sam Nook tilts his head, and crouches down to collect the feather. He stares at it curiously, then stands up and hands it to Tommy. "HOW DID YOU HURT IT?" 

Tommy grumbles incoherent words under his breath, and takes the feather. He inspects it closely, it must have came from a red parrot but they don't live around here, no kind of wildlife lives around here. So where did it come from, and why was it stuck in his hair? He notices Sam Nook's eyes on him, and breaks out of his thoughts. He clears his throat, tossing the feather away, "I don't know! It just, hurts for some reason," he responds. 

"WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO TAKE A LOOK?"

He doesn't flinch this time, instead his body stiffens. He subconsciously holds his breath, his hands by his sides are balled into fists and his mind goes blank. It's pure silence for longer than it should've lasted, but Tommy speaks up before Sam can. "No, it... it's fine, I'll just have Tubbo take a look at it. I'm sure it's not that bad," he assured, lowering his head. 

It really hurts.

"IF YOU SAY SO. HOPEFULLY IT ISN'T TOO BAD, I'LL RESUME PROGRESS ON THE HOTEL."

Hopefully.

"Yeah, you... you do that," he mumbled, turning away, "I'll talk to you later, Sam Nook." Glancing over his shoulder at the kind man, he headed off.

* * *

Tommy doesn't enjoy Snowchester's environment that much, if he's being honest. It's not only because of how freezing it is, and the snow falling from the sky gets on his nerves, but because it reminds him of a special place. It reminds him of Techno's home, how numb his body was and desperate for warmth when he stumbled across Techno's comfy, welcoming cottage. He misses the comforting warmth that healed him, he wants to sit by the fireplace again, get as close to the fire as he can and just, close his eyes. 

It all looks so familiar, he hates it. The first time coming here, he swore he saw Techno's cottage in the distance, but Tubbo snapped him out of it and when he looked back, it'd vanished. Techno isn't his friend anymore, he ruined their friendship, but pinned all the blame on him and his "betrayal". Perhaps they both hurt each other, but what's done is done and... he knows for a fact, that if Techno ever lies his eyes on him again without a good reason, things aren't going to end well. 

He and Phil are better off lost in the past. Sure, there were times where he looked up to them both as an older brother and father figure, those were the days, but they're long gone, those naive illusions have faded and revealed their true colours. He doesn't like it, but he can't mask them for his own appeal anymore. He's forced to deal with the truth.

He's torn between these thoughts and his aching back, that only seems to be getting worse with every couple of minutes. He wouldn't go as far as to say it's pure agony, he's gone through worse, but damn does he want it to stop. The cold isn't helping, he should have brought more than his thin t-shirt and cargo pants, if he had anything else. Tubbo had offered him a matching coat, and he stupidly rejected it.

He's arrived at his destination, Tubbo's house is easy to spot and just a little further and he'll be at his door. He just hopes he's home. Or else he's really screwed. Taking in a deep breath, he knocks on the door. 

He waits a few moments, "coming!" And he's relieved to hear the familiar voice and approaching footsteps. The door opens to reveal Tubbo, who's eyes widen, "Tommy, hey!" He happily greets, fully opening the door to let him in. 

Tommy cracks a small smile and enters, Tubbo closes the door behind him. "It's great to see you! Why are you here, though? Is there anything I can help you with?" He asks, turning to face him, his smile is bright. They've both been through a lot, Tubbo almost died by Dream's hands and Tommy couldn't do anything, but here, in Snowchester, away from him, his life isn't in danger. 

Tommy rubs his neck, "well..." he trails off, dropping his gaze to the floor. "I─"

"Hold on," Tubbo cuts off, leaning forward he reaches for Tommy's head, "you have a feather in your hair."

"A-another one?" 

Tubbo pulls back, and in his hand are not only one, but two bright red feathers with a yellow undertone. "Why do you have feathers in your hair?" Tubbo asks, staring at the peculiar feathers, and Tommy is at a loss for words.

He stutters on his words, "I don't know," he manages to get out in an annoyed, flabbergasted tone. Tubbo is understandably confused, and he is too. "Look, I'm here because my back hurts like hell and I don't know why, so could you just, take a look at it or something quickly?" 

Tubbo tilts his head, and before Tommy can tell him to forget about it and leave, he speaks up. "Sure," he answers casually with a small shrug, and Tommy just stares, and blinks. Part of him didn't expect him to actually say yes. "I mean, if it's bothering you that much. Did you do anything to hurt it?"

Tommy reluctantly turns around and Tubbo lifts up the back of his shirt. Tommy rolls his eyes, "no, there's no reason it should hurt, not this bad. It literally burns, Tubbo," he's interrupted by a surprised "oh my gosh"! From Tubbo that startles him.

"What? What?!" He snaps, trying to see over his shoulder, but Tubbo's holding him in place. He can see his face, and he looks... mortified.

"Your back! It's, it's all red and scratched up!" He exclaims. "What did you do, Tommy, did you cross paths with a cat or something?!"

No, he didn't. He spins around to face Tubbo, his shirt falling down. His heart skips a beat when he sees Tubbo's expression, and his thoughts halt. "Tubbo. What the hell is that face for, are you playing me?"

Tubbo's quick to react, hastily shaking his head, he steps back. "N-no! Your back's seriously scratched up and red. Are you sure you have no idea what caused it? Like, you have to know something, that can't just happen without your knowledge!" He says, and he isn't joking. Tommy can't see it for himself, he feels around his back, and winces at the slight stinging pain, but it's easier on him than earlier. 

His hand falls to his side. "No... I, have no idea, Tubbo. I'm not joking," his voice is unusually flat, and an uncomfortable silence falls upon them.

Tubbo gulps, taking a step closer, "I think it's best if you stay here. I'm sure I have a healing potion somewhere, you can't just leave without doing anything to help it," he tells him, turning away to leave his side. 

Tommy's body acts on it's own, within a split second he grabs Tubbo's wrist, but lets go just as fast. Locking eyes with him, Tommy's words die in his throat, but he coughes them out. "I'm fine, Tubbo, seriously. I'm sure it's nothing, right?"

Tubbo narrows his eyes, "Tommy, you haven't even seen it."

His chest grows tight and his mouth curl into a frown. What is that supposed to mean? 

Tubbo's eyes jump to Tommy's hands, and his mouth falls open. "Tommy," he says in a tone that makes Tommy tense up. He takes his hands, holding them up for him to see, and at first Tommy doesn't understand. "You have claws."

Tommy yanks his hands away, and they awkwardly lock eyes. He clears his throat, shoving his hands into his pockets. He furrows his brows, exhaling a shaky breath. "It doesn't even hurt anymore," that's a lie, "I, have things to do back home. Maybe you're right, a cat just attacked me in my sleep, or a tree branch scratched me, it's no big deal," he says, averting his gaze. It's no big deal, he shouldn't have bothered him in the first place. 

From the corner of his eyes, he struggles to ignore the concern clear as day on Tubbo's face. Have they... really grown that distant?

Tommy swallows his nerves, ridding his face of any emotions and reducing it to a blank slate. "Yeah, so, I'm just... gonna get going now, it was, uh, nice talking with you." They can't even share a conversation reminiscence of their old ones, all the laughter they'd share, the wide smiles that made their cheeks hurt, he misses those days. When they had no worries, and were safe within L'manberg's walls. Why can't he go back to those dsys, when times were simple?

Does Tubbo feel the same?

"Um, right! I'll come visit you soon, alright? To see how the hotel's coming along!" Tubbo answers, and Tommy hesitantly raises his head to meet his gaze. Somehow, he always managed to stay positive, it never fails to reassure him. He's his one saving grace. So when that bubbly facade dropped and shattered on the ground, revealing someone broken and afraid, it was a punch to the gut. The pain still lingers fron that day. It hurts.

Yet, Tommy can't help but attempt to return the smile, although it definitely looks a little strained. "Right..."

Things may not be the same as they used to be in the worst possible ways, but there's still hope towards a better future. What's that saying, something along the lines of to stop lingering in the past, and live in the present? He doesn't know, but maybe he should start living by it. "I'll see you there."

Tubbo gave him a jacket on the way out, and it did it's job shielding him from the cold. It wasn't just some spare jacket made for someone else, Tubbo made sure he knew it was specifically crafted for him only, fitting him snuggly. It almost helped with the pain, he could say, and for a short amount of time it went away, making him think that he overreacted a little. Then he thought about how genuine Tubbo reacted, how he gasped and his eyes went wide, and he might've felt his hands shake against his skin. 

And then, the pain returned twice as worse.

He's already further from Snowchester than his house, so he decided to keep going, pushing through it. He's felt worse, he told himself; much, much worse. 

It got to a point where that wouldn't help, the burning sensation spread to the rest of his back, mainly focusing around his shoulderblades and just below. Somehow, his body is experiencing the pain of jumping into lava, but it was trapped just under his skin. He second guessed scratching at his skin to relieve the pain, is that where the scratches came from, his nails? No, he can't reach that area. Then, what actually happened?

He faintly heard a sound, he lifted his head to spot Sam Nook just ahead of him. Sam... maybe, maybe he knows how to ease the pain. 

"ARE YOU ALRIGHT, TOMMY?"

It should be obvious by the way he's painfully hunched over, arms wrapped around himself. He staggered forward, "my back, it... I don't know what's wrong with it, fuck," he shut his eyes and clenched his jaw as the sensation worsened. "It hurts, fuck! It hurts so much!" He's experienced burning before, running through lava, and it's weaker than this. Hot, molten lava running down his back and gnawing away at it, that's what he imagines. 

God, he's not sure anymore if he's suffered worse. 

For a moment, everything halted. He received a short break from the overwhelming pain, it all went silent...

But it hit fought back with twice the power.

He almost screamed, a bucket of lava pouring over him. His strength abandoned him and he fell forward into Sam's arms, he tightly clasped his shoulders. "Make it stop, make it stop!" His hands trembled, and he collapsed to his knees. His head spun, and his vision blurred, Sam picked him up off the ground. 

Make it stop.

Please.

"Tommy─" He heard Sam's voice, but it cut off. Tommy's eyelids drooped, and after they closed and his sight became consumed by darkness, they didn't open again.


	2. You cover your wounds, but underneath them ( A million voices in your head that whisper, "Stop, now" )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bit of gore; graphic depictions of blood and such

It's stopped.

The sound of falling water droplets awakens Tommy, his eyes flutter open and the first thing he sees is a pillow by his face; he's resting on a bed, a quite comfortable one. Much softer, and warmer than his. He rolls onto his back, forgetting to proceed with caution and he faces the consequences. He bites back a noise, clutching his stomach he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. It isn't as bad as he remembers, doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. 

He groans, draping an arm over his face. 

"Are you alright, Tommy?" 

He shrieked, his whole body jumping in the air. His soul might have just left his body, christ, but he recognizes the voice. "Sam! You scared me!" He exclaimed, turning to the man standing beside his bed, seemingly dipping a cloth into a cauldron of water. It didn't take long to figure out their whereabouts; "are we in your base?" 

"We are," Sam confirms, squeezing the cloth dry. "You passed out, and I didn't know where else to take you. You really gave me quite the fright, how are you feeling?" 

He passed out, right, likely from all the pain. He lowered his head, thinking back to what went down; "it doesn't... burn anymore, but it still kind of hurts," he answers. Blinking his tired eyes, he notices something around his chest, they're bandages, and cover his entire upper body. He stares, as if in awe.

Sam clears his throat, snapping him out of his thoughts. A mask hides his face, but it doesn't stop Tommy from seeing his concern. "Tommy, your back was all... burnt, no lava or fire can do that unless you die from it and it leaves a scar. Clearly, you haven't, so I don't understand how..." he trails off, there's no need to continue.

Tommy is just as confused. He hasn't gone anywhere near any source of fire, or lava, but that's the only logical explanation, except it isn't. You don't wake up with burns on your back that came out of nowhere. "I..."

"Well, I cleaned it up as best I could, gave you some healing potions and wrapped it up with bandages. That was an hour or so ago, if you feel the need to, you can take another healing potion," Sam informs, interrupting his train of thought. He delved back into his mind, trying to decipher this madness... but nothing connected. A heavy silence falls upon them, and his chest grows tight, filling with dread.

He doesn't like this, he wants to go home, where he can be by himself. On the other hand, what if it starts hurting again? Sam has all the gapples and potions. Maybe he should have stayed with Tubbo... no, he'd only be bothering him, and now he's an inconvenience to Sam. He's sure it's not _that_ bad, he can't even remember the pain.

"I'm sorry, Tommy, but I'm going to have to leave," says Sam, and Tommy's heart drops to the bottom of his chest. What? But he can't leave! That'll make him all alone! "I won't be gone for too long, if you need any potions or anything, they're in the chests near the entrance," he assures him, but it doesn't help much. 

If it starts hurting again, he can find the gapples and potions, that's what Tommy tells himself to calm his increasing heart beat. He'll be fine, he can manage on his own, he doesn't even need to stay here. It's a long journey back through the nether, though. Sitting in a fetal position staring at nothing in particular, he quietly contemplates. 

"Tommy?"

"Right, right, I'll be fine! Nothing for you to worry about, see?" He reassures, jumping off the bed he instantly regrets it as his back spasms, and he bites back a shout. Nevertheless, he grins at Sam, the bandages are wrapped around him tight, perhaps a little too tight. "Doesn't hurt in the slightest," he claims confidently, crossing his arms. 

Sam appears uncertain. To further prove his point, Tommy shrugs his shoulders, stretches, and there's no problem, surprisingly. Asides from slight stinging that lingers, he's genuinely feeling much better. A wide smile crosses his face at the realization, "no pain at all!" He exclaims in visible joy. Tommy attempts to undo his bandages, but Sam stops him there. 

"Alright, you've proved your point. Still, be careful, just in case. Keep the bandages on until I get back, then I'll see how you've healed," he instructs, and Tommy eagerly nods. For some reason, Sam still appears to be a little on edge, he said he needs to leave, but he's still here. 

Tommy misses his chance to ask about it. "Well, I'll be going now," Sam speaks up, and the words die in Tommy's throat. 

He slowly nods, "right..." he'll be okay on his own.

Sam nods, he's smiling behind his mask which he adjusts. "I'll see you soon, don't break anything while I'm gone," he warns lightheartedly, and a slight smile breaks through Tommy's mouth. A soft chuckle escapes, a weight is lifted off his shoulders.

"What do you take me for, Sam?"

"Haha, I'm just saying."

Sam doesn't stay any longer after that. Instead of walking with him to the entrance, Tommy said his goodbye there and remained within the room. He guesses it's Sam's, his base is huge and he's only been here twice; once with Sapnap when he requested he'd join Pogtopia, and secondly when they... after Puffy and him freed him from the egg and... brought him back here. He seems to be doing alright since then, thankfully, he was exhausted and could barely stand on his own.

He's... a good guy, he and Sam Nook. He really owes him now, but he'll probably take it as returning the favour. Sam Nook, too, he's still building the grand hotel and putting so much effort and time into it, he already knows it's going to be spectacular and people from all over the SMP will come running. The profit isn't his main interest, "shockingly", the premise of the hotel is a safe haven from all the conflict. Of course, he won't be opposed to getting rich off it, though.

He's truly lost the concept of time, lying on the bed with his head rested on his hands, he's staring up at the ceiling without moving a muscle. It's still early afternoon he's pretty sure, he isn't tired, but at the same time he has no intention on moving. 

A few minutes go by, and he remains in his fixed position. More time passes, and his eyelids grow heavy, they droop but he prevents them from closing. They slowly close, then snap wide open, and repeat until he gives in. His eyes shut and he rolls onto his side, curling his body he gets comfortable and pulls the blanket over him. It's silky soft and his tensed muscles loosen up, melting into the mattress he begins to drift away. It's so snug, and warm.

A... little too warm, if he's being honest. 

He furrows his brows and without opening his eyes, he kicks off the blanket. He shuffles a little, getting comfortable again, but it doesn't last for long. It's still too hot, and he kicks his legs, but the blanket's gone. 

He sits up, and is left puzzled. Then, the heat moves to his back long, sharp claws dig into his skin and drag down. He can practically feel the flames dancing upon his skin, small needles stabbing him repeatedly, steadily getting faster and deeper. He bites the inside of his cheek to resist shouting, clenching his hands into tight fists. 

The gapples and potions, he needs to find them, now. 

He throws himself off the bed and he can't hold back the pained sound that leaves his mouth, it doesn't even sound human. The fire has been replaced with lava pouring over his skin, tearing it away. He knows it's not actually there, he'll look over his shoulder and there's no sign of the smallest blaze. What the hell is going on? 

It's not that important, what he needs to do is get the painkillers, as soon as possible. He staggers on his feet, his breathing is shallow and his heart is pounding against his ribcage. His head starts spinning and he crashes into the wall, "shit." The door opens and he stumbles through, desperately trying to ignore the state of his back, the flames beckoning him; but they're a part of his imagination. Is he going crazy?

To his relief, the bedroom is basically right next to the entrance and to the right of him are the wall of chests containing his antidote. There are so many, he's hoping there's something in every one. He runs over, but he trips over his own feet and lands on the floor. Great, just great.

"Oh, come on..." he quietly whines. He doesn't have the strength to push himself back in, the strength has suddenly vanished from his body. "Fuck's sake!" His muscles have tensed up, he's pretty much paralyzed. The chests are right there, but without standing up a lot of them are out of his reach. He needs to get up. 

His breath is shaky; he gulps and stabilizes himself, or tries to. Lying on his stomach, he pulls himself closer and extends out his hand to one of the chests sitting on the floor. "Come on, come on..." he grabs onto it and pries it open with weak, trembling hands that struggle to lift the lid. He uses both hands and bringing himself closer, peers inside...

Only to find it empty. 

His stomach drops and he feels physically sick. The next chest, there has to be something in there that can ease the pain, anything. 

He tries once more to stand, or else he'll be left writhering on the floor in utter agony. He uses the chests for support, digging his sharp nails into their wooden exterior and hopelessly pulls himself up. His knees buckle, and he holds onto the chests for dear life. The raging flames attacking his back don't slow down, they grow more ferocious and stronger as he gets weaker. 

His hand slips, and he falls back down with a loud "thump"! That no one's around to hear. It's just him, suffering on his own. A spasm ripples through his back and he chokes out a sob. He manages to sit up, going on his knees and wraps his arms securely around himself. The inferno discovers his bones, and it tears him apart from the inside.

There's no point in holding back tears. Every slight movement aggravates it more, setting his whole body and insides aflame, so he doesn't dare flinch, but his body reacts on its own. Even gasping and exhaling deeply burns his lungs, nothing is safe. He struggles to breathe, taking in too many rigid, quick breaths without properly getting oxegyn. At this point, it's torture. 

He doesn't try to check in the other chests, he's too afraid to do anything, his hands refuse to correspond with his mind. He stares down at them, and to his horror, his nails have dug so deep into his palms that they've drawn deep, red blood trickling down his wrists. They're clamped shut, blood continuing to pool out, but he can't even feel it.

The bandages around his chest are suffocating, he claws at his back but his hands are glued closed. He chokes when he tries to speak, unable to get a single word out, tears are streaming down his face. 

He can hear his heart beart in his ears, racing so fast it might explode at any second. 

He wants to scream, but no sound comes out. His throat is sore and hoarse, but he didn't hear himself screaming. 

All he wants is for it to stop, he's begging for help but his voice goes unheard. There's no one around to help.

His head drops, and there's blood surrounding him. It's his blood, he's sitting in a pool of his own blood. His mind is blank, he's lightheaded, possibly from the severe blood loss he's only now noticed. Sam, Sam's going to be... so pissed at him for this... if he survives this whole ordeal, that is. Which, at this rate, isn't very likely. 

The pain hasn't eased, but his body grants him some relief by falling numb. Mainly his hands and shoulders, however everything else is still burning and... why can he actually smell smoke?

He's slipping, his eyelids are heavy and he can barely stay upright, lightly swaying side to side. 

He's given a moment to breathe and he knows to brace himself; but it doesn't help when there's a tugging sensation, as if someone grabbed his insides and yanked on them. By this time, it's nearly become too much, his vision's spotty and blinking it away doesn't do much. The pool of blood spread, dying his pants wine red, it's running down his back, too.

A shrilling, long rip interrupts his drifting thoughts and snaps him wide awake with a frightened gasp. He shakes his hands, they're still clenched no matter how hard he tries to force them open. He wiggles and chokes on the stabbing pain, and it feels like daggers are slicing through his skin, starting at his shoulder blades and ending at the bottom of his ribcage. Oddly enough, it's freeing. In other words, he could also describe it as the lava finally tearing his skin away and leaves two parallel lines.

The scent of smoke has gotten heavier, and he can hear crackling against his ear, reminding him of fire chipping away at wood like it's currently doing with his body. He's empty, and hollow... how does he still have enough blood left to function? There's so much on the floor, it's absolutely gruesome, but his mind can't process the true horrifying extent. 

Something snaps inside him, and something else breaks through. Something that had previously been restricted, resting against his bones and it's granted release, and he assumes that's the end. It's a god awful sound that follows, more blood gushing out from the wounds he can't even see. 

He's abruptly weighed down, having to stop himself from losing balance and tipping to either side as something heavy tugs at his shoulders. He leans forward and his hands opening at last, he lands on them. A familiar red feather gently drifts to the floor in his line of sight, and it's on fire. It's not his imagination, the feather is actually on fire, burning bright he expects to watch it crinkle up and reduce to ashes or nothing, but destroying logic, it survives. The fire has no effect on it, it's fire proof.

Smoke fills his nostrils, and it's not solely coming from the small, dainty feather. It's a much bigger blaze. He has a sneaking suspicion where it's originating from, but it's simply impossible and illogical. 

Mustering up the courage he turns his head, and glabces over his shoulder. 

His eyes reflect the beautiful fury he's staring at, burning exquisitely in the form of two wings shrouded in scorching embers. They sizzle and crackle, but like the feather, they are left unfazed. What is even more implausible is the fact they're dancing against his shoulder blades, they tingle, but there is no agony to be had. No burning sensation or anything of the sort. 

His brain is falling apart, running circles around itself it's on the very brink of shutting down. 

They're wings, and they're on fire.

Not only that, they are somehow attached to his back from what he can tell. He's delusional, surely, he's gone through a heavy amount of blood loss and suffering, meaning that this has to be his brain coping in its own weird way. In other words, he's crazy and at this rate, he's going to pass out.

He isn't thinking properly, because he reaches out a hand to touch the flames, and that's when he knows this is his imagination, because it doesn't hurt. He puts his hand through the blaze, and touches the wings, they're soaked in blood and he almost withdraws his hand at the disgusting texture, but past that, the feathers are quite smoothe. It's a bit disorienting, but they feel like a part of him, similar to his arms or any other body part. 

His hand trails down the wings that stretch out quite far, too far for him to reach the very end of. They're folded inwards, and shuddered under his touch, and the vibrations travelled to his back. It forcibly snapped him out of his awe, the trembles tugging at the open wounds these wings supposedly sprouted from. His, the wings flap, putting him through more throbbing pain that tears at his skin. Then, the wings go limp, sitting on the floor. 

He needs to recollect himself and... and take care of this, somehow. He's got two gaping slashes down his black that are still bleeding out, and he's going to pass out from blood loss soon enough. Gapples and potions won't help him now... but what the fuck else is he meant to do? 

He tries standing, and to his utter joy, it works. His loose shirt falls off, and stepping back, the back has been burnt away, most of it has been, really. The bandages follow, ripped, torn and edges burnt to a dark, crispy black. He grew wings, which he didn't think was possible and... they're on fire. 

He cautiously checks again, and the flames have quieted down, until they have faded completely. He can see his wings a bit better now, his eyesight isn't the best, it's blurry and spotty, and his wings are coated from the tips to the last feathers in his blood. They slowly unfold themselves without his command, and stretch out to their full compacity. They're massive, stretching out to a jaw-dropping twelve feet wingspan. It's... surreal, is all he can think of. 

He stumbles, and rests against the wall of chests, unintentionally wiping blood over them. His knees are weak, as so is the rest of his body... but he can't stay here and bleed out, who knows how long Sam will be gone for. He'll need to stitch up the wounds, just the idea makes him nauseous. He swallows the vile climbing up his stomach and throat, last thing he needs right now on top of everthing is to be sick. 

He holds onto one of the chests and watching his feet, takes one step after the other. His wings convulse, he can't quite control them, so he can't prevent them from being a hassle and making this even more difficult. They're weighing him down a lot, he's not used to the sudden added weight. 

He closes his eyes and deeply exhales, tightly grabbing the chests to ensure he doesn't collapse, he leans against them and although it's far from comfortable, he closes his eyes. 

The silence is... nice.

It doesn't last for very long, unfortunately, the loud cluttering and clanks terrifies him awake. He jumps back, slipping over his blood he crashes into the ground, landing on his side and narrowly avoiding his wings in the downfall. It still hurts like hell. 

It takes him a moment to figure out where the noise came from; the door.

"T...Tommy...?"

Sam.


	3. Another twist of the knife, turn of the screws

The cold water is soothing on Tommy's skin, droplets running down his back. He's standing within the Holy Land, under the water fountain rinsing off the dried blood. They're lucky that no one is around to accidentally catch onto this... bizarre situation. 

The wings are still attached to his back, he can move them like any other body part. It's surreal, the aftermath of all the suffering resulted in sprouting two large wings that unravelled from inside his body. He's supposed to be human, or at least, that's what he's assumed up until this point; apparently he's incorrect. It's confirmed he isn't imagining this, since he has Sam by his side, who's just as starstruck by this unpredictable occurence, he wasn't exactly thrilled to come back to Tommy sitting in a puddle of his own blood, with wings.

Whilst he was still in shock, Sam assisted by splashing him with regeneration potions. He could only do two for now, they're quite strong and though Tommy's body had since pretty much gone numb, the tingling sensation as his body healed itself wasn't the greatest. His back was literally torn open, after all, the two long slits the wings came out of didn't just disappear afterwards. He got lightheaded; he still kind of is now, but he needed to get cleaned up. Sam dumped a bucket of water on him, wrapped his torso in bandages and they headed off to the Holy Land. The water is said to be, well, holy, and pure, not only cleaning but healing and purifying you.

It seems to be doing the trick, from what he can tell. With the blood gone from his wings, he can see them in their full glory; they're bright red, resembling the fire that covered them (he's not certain whether that'd been real or not, however) the end feathers are the darkest, with the insides fading from orange to a bright yellow. They stretch out to roughly twelve feet, Sam estimated. They're long and narrow, with pointed wing tips. They're somewhat fluffy, not as much as earlier, some of the fluff has fallen off since then and Sam says the rest will likely shortly follow. He surprisingly knows a lot about birds, which might be helpful in this situation. 

What he doesn't know, is how Tommy got these in the first place. 

The first thing that came to mind is to ask Phil. It's the logical thing to do, since he also has wings, except he can't fly with them anymore. Quackity has wings as well, they were also wounded quite badly, on the same day he received a nasty scar that blinded his right eye, and Tommy still doesn't know what caused it; anyways, he hasn't been around for a while and who knows where he went, or when he's ever coming back. Phil's his only hope, if it weren't for the fact that he helped Techno blow up L'manberg, ultimately destroying it for the last time.

They're not exactly on great terms. Their relationship has always been a little strange; considering he's Wilbur's biological father, and he has always viewed Wilbur as an older brother figure since the day they crossed paths, and Will would often tell him amazing tales of his father; "The Angel of Death" as some would call him. Whenever he talked about Phil, he'd always have this certain glint in his eye, and a wide, toothy grin plastered across his face. 

Feeding into this fairytale hero complex, the man he witnessed murdering Wilbur before his very eyes is not the same person Wilbur described with pride. He's not so sure that he's forgiven Phil for that one yet, Ghostbur being permanently gone doesn't help, either. He just... disapeared on the day he and Tubbo took down Dream. When they met with Wilbur, or Alivebur that same day, technically with his spirit, he raged; exclaiming that they "killed Casper the friendly ghost". So... he might be gone for good, and just when he was starting to appreciate his presence and joyful demeanour that could never be spoiled.

Who does he have left...? There's Tubbo, but how is he going to react to... this? 

"Tommy," Sam's soft voice snaps Tommy back to reality. He's soaked from head to toe, his hands are starting to wrinkle from being underwater too long and he's freezing. 

He misses Tubbo, and... just Tubbo.

He steps out of the water fountain, as he does so a feather drifts to the ground, he already knows it came from his head like the others. It's like when your hair falls out from stress, he's started leaving a trail of them, which Sam collected so they don't leave a trace. It's still mind-boogling, he has _wings,_ and if this were a dream, he would've woken up by now. Probably.

Sam hands him some clean bandages and before he can offer his help, Tommy mutters a polite 'thank you', takes them and does it himself. It's tricky, manuevering around his wings, it's hard to see past them over his shoulder. It's not too difficult to move them, they're a little heavy, they were dragging on the ground for the most part on the way here. He lifts them up in order to wrap the bandages, every time he feathers touch him, he flinches. It's going to need some getting used to.

After he finishes, the bandages securely wrapped around his torso, Sam offers him a jacket, but it won't fit over his wings. He doesn't even try, they're spread out to their full capacity; he's refrained from using them as much as possible so they're stuck in that phase.

They don't feel... real, well, they do, they're extremely fluffy and other parts are smooth, but his mind struggles to process the idea they literally came out of his back, where they've been hiding for who knows how long. Why now? He's always thought that people with wings get them at birth. Then again, he's never asked. 

When he saw Quackity's golden wings for the first time, he assumed that he recently grew them, but no; they'd just been hiding under his jacket the entire time until they decided to have a sudden growth spurt that prevented such from continuing. He'd been jealous, and Quackity jokingly offered to "help him fly" a couple times, which he passed up, but that jealously is long gone. Although, he might be a little envious that Quackity didn't have to go through all the pain he did. He still has scars on his palms where his nails pierced through the skin, thankfully they'll go away eventually. 

These wings, on the other hand, are here to stay.

Instead of beaming with joy and immediately wanting to test-fly, acting like an excited toddler, it's the opposite reaction; his stomach is filled with dread, and while they're extravagant, and he can name plenty of other positive words to describe their beauty, he wishes they weren't there. It feels... unnatural, he's a human, isn't he? Well, clearly not.

Then what is he? 

He's heard the term "avian" tossed around a few times, but that's not him. He isn't like Phil, or Quackity, he's... he's not sure what he is anymore. 

He looks down at the long, baggy dark brown jacket that could be mistaken for a deep red, and clenches his hands into fists. It reminds him of Wilbur's pogtopia jacket he carried and wore for quite some time, except it appears brand new, there isn't any rips, tears, or patches sewn on and the colour is off. The fabric is similar, and it has the same buttons. 

"Tommy," Sam places a hand on his shoulder. He raises his head to meet his gaze, but his face is covered by the mask, he hasn't seen him without it. "Are you alright? I mean... you, you've been through a lot. Would you like me to escort you home, or you can come back to my place, I don't mind. I can tell Sam Nook to keep an eye on you, make sure you're okay, but it'll slow down building time..." 

Tommy's shoulders drop, and unintentionally so do his wings. As if they have a mind of their own, they fold themselves neatly inwards and the ends touch the ground. A simple jacket isn't going to hide them well, unless he gets a trench coat that stops at his shoes. Nevertheless, he slips the jacket on, pressing his wings against his back he makes them fit. It's a bit of a tight squeeze, the wings are large, and fluffy, but he makes it work.

He thinks over his words before speaking; "I... I can stay with you, right?" 

His body unknots, shoving his hands into the pockets he quietly stares at his feet. "It's just, I don't wanna bother you or anything, I don't know how Tubbo's gonna react to this and so─"

"Of course you can stay with me."

His eyes gleam, searching for something he could cling onto through Sam's strange eyes. His heart swells, and he's caught off guard by a feeling he hasn't experienced in a long time...

He feels safe.

* * *

Tommy knows he can't avoid Tubbo forever, that'd be impossible with how clingy he is. Soon enough he'll come looking for him and won't know where he is, he'll get worried, afraid he could be in danger or something. He isn't too keen on that right now, he's just stepped out of the nether portal and is trailing behind Sam, retreating to his base; a save haven. Here, it is only him and Sam, along with Fran, Sam's dog. 

As he follows Sam, Tommy pays more attention to the sky than his surroundings; he watches the clouds go by, a few of them resemble odd or familiar shapes. Such as a sheep, a star, that one can be interpreted as a dog... 

His thoughts come to an abrupt halt when he walks into Sam as he waits for the entrance to open. Tommy stumbles back, rubbing his red nose, Sam peers over his shoulder and quietly chuckles, then steps inside. 

Tommy doesn't immediately follow, as he knows he should, but instead the sun-drenched blue skies and it's cotton candy clouds. He knows they're transparent to the touch, like mist, you don't feel it as you walk phase straight through, but he can't help imagining their fuzzy texture, stealing a piece and cupping it in his hands. It's a shame, really.

The entrance opens wide before him, clanks and shuffling heard as the redstone and slime blocks do their job. Sam is waiting for him, of course, "is everything alright, Tommy?" He's so sincere, reminding Tommy of an older brother, such as...

He scratches the back of his neck, it slips his mind he chopped off the long parts of his hair. On some days the final fight with Dream feels like it happened weeks upon weeks ago, and other days, he swears it happened just a couple days earlier, a week at max. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, "jeez, Sam, can't a guy admire his surroundings for a bit?" He retorts, walking over. 

The second he steps onto the platform, it lifts up. It knocks the air out of him and almost gives him a heart attack, but he jumps down and avoids getting crushed. His balance wavers when his feet touch the ground, and he has to catch his breath. He barely hears Sam snickering under his breath as he turns around, and he scoffs. 

He slips off the jacket and stretched out his wings, flexing the muscles. 

"Did you know you aren't human?" Sam asks, walking over to where Fran is hidden within the wall he sneaks a glancd at Tommy. 

His expression gives it away. 

Sam looks elsewhere, removing the wall he frees Fran and goes down on one knee to run his hands through her fur. She's a sweet dog, he remembers when this whole place used to be filled with dogs. "I'm sorry, this must be terrifying for you then."

Tommy scoffs at how at how he sounds, "no shit, Sherlock," he retorts. The top ends of his feathers curl inwards, tensing, and it still catches him off guard. They're his, but his mind can't process that. "I'm human, I mean, I _thought_ for sure I was, but obviously─" he raises his voice, clenching his hands.

"I don't think humans are supposed to grow wings, Tommy."

"Well, duh─!" He snaps at Sam, he regrets it instantly. He opens his hands, forgetting he has claws now, and he runs his hand down his face and exhales deeply. "Why now? Why, when everything's calmed down, I just want to live a peaceful life! Is that too much to ask for?!" His voice gets louder again, a nasty scowl on his face. He gestures wildly with his hand, frustration building up. 

"Tommy,"

"All I want is some peace and quiet for once! It's just one conflict after the other! Give me a break!" 

He's constantly exhausted, but the world refuses to let him sleep. It throws an enemy at him and once he's defeated it just barely, he receives no rewards for his victory, and it's onto the next opponent. He's had enough, this is where he puts his foot down. He doesn't want, nor need these wings, what purpose do they serve him? To fly away from all his problems? He can't even do that.

"Tommy!"

His heart stops beating in his chest, his words get stuck in his throat and he chokes on them. Sam is fear-stricken, addressing Tommy afraid, but there's nothing standing behind him. When all falls silent, he hears it; the fanning of flames and from the corner of his eye, stray embers swirl above his shoulder, licking the sensitive skin.

The hot air presses against his back, his body moves on its own, he slowly turns his head to the source of the blaze. It's his wings, they're consumed by a out of control flame, but the basic shape remains. The flames spark, almost dancing, as if it needs to leap, to fly, willing to land where it may. His mind is calm, not a single thought to be had, he's captivated by its unbelievable glory. 

He didn't imagine it. He doesn't think twice, oustretching his hand to the fire wrapped around his wings, he cannot hear Sam cry out, or anything else for that matter; the blaze burns without sound. His hand phases straight through, the flames engulf him up to his wrist. The feathers are unharmed, they're standing up on edge and are pointy and sharp, but they're unaffected. 

The fear swirling around inside him changes into amazement, breaking into a smile he's at a loss for words. He caresses his feathers through the firey blaze, but one of them stab his finger. "Ow!" He pulls it back, his hand unfazed by the flames, but he'd felt the intense heat. A small drop of blood runs down his finger, it's nothing concerning. 

The flames grow weaker, smaller, until extinguishing themselves. His feathers soften and revert to normal, less of the fluff on his wings remain. It blew his mind, there's no way he imagined all that and as proof, he wasn't the only witness. 

"Sam!! Did, did you see that?!" He blurts out, his heart beat quickening he eagerly awaits a positive answer. Puzzled is an understatement for what he feels when Sam doesn't utter a word. "Sam...?" His smile turns upside down, he cocks his head and reluctantly approaches Sam, but only takes a few steps forward.

"You're... Tommy, you're a phoenix." 

His uncontrollable joy has made him sick to the stomach, abruptly turning into dread. He swallows the nerves climbing up his throat, and takes a step back.

"I'm... a what?"


	4. It's all in your mind and it's fighting you

Tommy lays under the darkening sky on the grassy hill, a gentle breeze blowing through his hair. His hands tucked behind his head, his wings are spread out and the grass stems gets under his feathers, tickling him. The sunlight bounces off them, his temporarily excitement at receiving them has long faded. He shouldn't have wings, he's supposed to be a human like he always has been...

Apparently, he's not even an avian, let alone a human. 

_"You're a phoenix."_

The only time he's heard that phrase before is; "a phoenix rises from the ashes", or something along those lines, he didn't believe they existed. It baffled him, but he couldn't deny it no matter how much he wanted to; the wings attached to his back were proof. This is no dream, this is real life; he's grown wings, and they're there to stay. 

He's a phoenix, or so Sam says... he wants to argue, but not only does he not have the strength, he doesn't know how to explain his wings. If he isn't a phoenix, then what is he? His wings did catch on fire, after all, and were left unharmed with no clear indication of how the fire started. None of this makes any sense, and it's seriously getting on his nerves. The day hasn't even ended yet, but the sun will abandon it's position in the sky soon, making way for the moon to take its place. 

Sam offered to let him stay at his base for however long he pleases and he accepted without thinking it through first, and he's changed his mind. Sam's a good friend and person, he's looking out for him and he seems to know the most about his situation, at least more than anyone else does at the moment including himself. 

Tommy can either stay, and get as much information from Sam on this as he can, hopefully figuring out why he has these wings in the first place; or, he can retreat home. Although it's a long journey and he might get recognized along the way, which could lead to some problems... right now, all he needs is some time alone to breathe. Sam must understand.

The air is growing colder, it's getting dark and it's time for him to make a decision. Surely Sam won't mind. 

He stands up, perfectly timed to get hit by a strong gust of wind that forces him to stumble back and almost lose his balance. His wings weigh him down, they're heavier than they look; it'll take some getting used to. The wind blows through his feathers and he raises his wings, spreading them out. He has to admit, the feeling is euphoric and it distracts him briefly. They are quite beautiful. 

It reminds him of Phil's wings, but his are pitch black and considerably bigger, until they were damaged on the sixteenth. It's a dying shame he can't soar anymore, the wings are practically useless now, dragging him down literally, they no longer have a purpose. Does he ever wishes his wings weren't that? 

...Probably not.

Tommy runs his fingers through his messy hair, blown all over the place by the wind. It used to stop mid-way down his neck and just above his shoulders, a stylised bob with a few braids. After Doomsday, he chopped it off in a rage, leaving it a mess that he couldn't be bothered to fix up, just keeping the singular braid hanging down the side of his face. Only after the final fight with Dream did Tubbo help him get a decent haircut, a little longer than it's original length pre-exile, maintaining the braid. It reminds him of Techno, sometimes he considers cutting it off, too.

He raises his hand to the sky, his nails are so long and sharp, they've turned into claws. He used to file his nails down by scratching things, or running over them over articles of clothing he wears, such as his pants, but that isn't going to work anymore. 

He grabs his jacket from the ground and tucking in his wings, throws it on. He has to tug on it a little to make it fit, and his wings poke out the bottom, but there's nothing he can do about that. Making sure it's on properly, he makes his way down the hill that Sam has built his base into. Jumping down multiple steps at a time, he wonders if he should tell Sam goodbye. He won't try looking for him if he doesn't, will he? He did say he'll be staying with him, then again.

His feet land on the ground and his balance wavers slightly, he sticks his hands out and stops himself from faling. Retracting his arms, he walks over to the front entrance of Sam's base. He can only imagine what Sam's doing in there, what's going through his mind. He shouldn't care if he just... returns home without saying anything, he should be able to figure out where he went. 

He balls his hands into fists, careful not to hurt himself with his nails, and bites his bottom lip. He stands there, and silently contemplates...

He sharply turns away, releasing his breath. He adjusts his jacket and he's made his final decision, he walks away at a steady pace, resisting the urge to peer over his shoulder one last time. His wings uncomfortably shift under his jacket, like they have a mind of their own, but he does his best to ignore them. One foot in front of the other he follows the path home, heading to the nether portal.

Admittedly, he probably should have taken a couple of healing potions to ease the pain if it worsens, after the wings came out he hadn't experienced too much pain. He can't be certain it won't come back, it's too late for him to sneak inside and snag a few, Sam will no doubt catch him red-handed. Then he'll be forced to explain where he's going in a rush, and why. 

Why is he leaving? 

It doesn't matter. He's wasting time, Sam will come out at any moment now and catch him in the act. 

He shakes his head and pushes forward with a huff, shoving his hands into the pockets of the jacket, he imagines it's Wilbur's. He makes it to the portal, dark purple swirls glowing before his eyes, an undescrible familiar sound tunneling into his ears, he shuts his eyes and it falls silent. He peels his eyes open and sighing, moves one foot forward and enters the portal. It engulfs him in its mystical swirls, it's an odd sensation he may never get used to.

His eyes half-lidded, he's tired. When he gets home, he'll head to bed. It's been a while since he's gotten a proper night's rest, his mind's been to stressed, worn and filled with thoughts that constantly keep him up. 

He reluctantly checks behind him, and it's something he instantly regrets. Sam stands outside his base, the entrance closing behind him, they lock eyes. Neither of them have time to speak, if Sam did say something, Tommy's vision became too clouded and he couldn't hear anything over the portal. His eyesight distorts, he closes his eyes for half a second and when they're opened again, he's in a different area and Sam is gone.

He doesn't move, not until he has to or else the portal will suck him back in. The portal makes him a little lightheaded and dizzy, but he shakes it off. He takes one step forward and freezes, does he go back? Did Sam want to tell him something...?

He doesn't ponder on it for too long, he isn't home yet. So he proceeds, keeping his gaze fixated on the path ahead. He knows the way like the back of his hand, his house isn't too far away, he'll arrive in a matter of minutes whilst hopefully avoiding anybody. It's odd to think about how they were all friends at one point, or most of them were, at least. Niki, Jack Manifold, Wilbur, Techno...

It's just him and Tubbo, against the world. 

They're far from falling apart, right? Sure, they've had their ups and downs, especially after he exiled him, but they're on good terms. Or so, he hopes they are, but it's complicated depending on how you look at it. They still have each other to depend on, they just aren't as close as they used to be, for obvious reasons. Eventually, once they heal from the past their bond will be stronger than ever, and they'll go back to being the closest friends on the server. 

Right?

Something taps the top of his head. "Huh?" He lifts his head towards the sky, and a droplet lands on his nose. He crinkles his nose and blinks his eyes, the sky has turned a dark grey with storm clouds brewing. The rain is slow at first and harmless, though out of nowhere it starts pouring, drenching him within mere seconds. "Agh! Come on!" He throws his hands over his head as a shield and books it.

Thunder and lightning crash down, booming in his earlobes it gets his heart racing. He dashes through forming puddles, splashing himself with dirty water he has no way to protect himself.

A thought crosses his mind and he doesn't think twice on it, he urgently takes off the jacket and holds it above his head. It holds the water, but at this rate it'll soak it up and make matters a thousand times worse. He runs as fast as his legs can take him, the wind howls so viciously he's sure there are wolves nearby joining in. 

He finds shelter; a tree is not ideal, but it's better than nothing. His balance wavers, coming close to slipping on the mud he skids across it and unaware to him, his wings stretch and keep him standing. With a strong flap, fighting against the storm he halts, safe under the tree's leaves, the jacket and his wings that are positioned like an umbrella above his head. 

He peeks out from under his wings, staring up at the monstrous sky and how it dances. The wind ran as if it has been restrained for time out of mind and it was determined to outrun any chaser. The sound of it was a strange song, as if howling yearned for a melody, and he watched every movement closely. The clouds race across the sky, thrumming with the charged energy they are desperate to release. There is no saving light asides from the frequent, reoccurring lightning strikes. With everyone he flinches as the thunder echoes out, cracking the sky wide open with a spectacular golden bolt.

"Tommy, where are you?" Tubbo calls out, though he doubts anyone will hear him over the raging storm. He just left Tommy's house, his best friend nowhere to be seen and if he's out in this weather without any protection or shelter, then he's in trouble. He's surprised his weak dirt shack has survived so far, this has got to be the worst storm he's seen. 

He calls out to Tommy, staying close to his dirt shack in case he needs to run for cover. Tommy could be anywhere, but hopefully he'll hear his screams of terror and he'll come sprinting to his side. Unfortunately, as of right now there's no sign of him and the weather's growing worse by the second. The wind is limiting his hearing and there's no light shining through, so he can't see a damn thing. 

It'd be safer if he gives up and saves himself, but he refuses to do so. He hears a faint beep coming from his communicator; and it's a message from Jack. _"Tubbo, you need to come home NOW. You'll get blown away out there!"_

Well, his feet are still firmly planted on the ground, for now at least. He slips his communicator back into his pocket without responding, he doesn't want to risk it flying out of his hand. "Tommy!" He must be close by and on his way home, or else he's somewhere safe from this monstrosity whilst Tubbo's endangering himself for no damn reason.

He isn't taking that risk. He trudges through the mud that clasps his feet; attempting to drag him down, grimy hands ruin his shoes and ends of his pants. The slop sounds make him cringe, he's going to need a good clean after this nightmare. He doesn't even have an umbrella to aide him, the pelting rain soaking him to the bone, the thoughts lingering at the back of his mind are questioning his actions, insisting he gives up; but he refuses. "Tommy!"

He struggles against the wind; acting as a wall to prevent him from progressing. He shields his face with his arm and musters through. He opens his eyes, and figure standing under a tree distracts him. He lowers his arms to get a better look; from what he can tell it appears human, but the terrible lighting provided limits his vision, he can only make out their dark shape.

There's a flash of lightning that hits dangerously close, striking between him and the tree where the figure resides. He jumps back with a cut off scream, his whole body tensing up. The lightning provides some light and he catches a glimpse of the person, more specifically, what appear to be wings that they're using as an umbrella, they're a bright red and absolutely stunning. 

Then, as he's lost in awe; the figure escapes, and he chases after it. "H-hey! Wait!"

It turns out, Tommy doesn't like thunderstorms all that much. That one lightning bolt came a little too close for comfort and sent his body into overdrive and his nerves into a panic. He wasn't sticking around for another near-death encounter; Zeus might not miss next time. 

The currents tease him, pushing him back with their mighty strength; he struggles to get anywhere. His house shouldn't be far from here. He can't see well; the skies have gone pitch black, asides from the grey clouds; there's no light whatsoever. "Let me go, goddammit!" He screams to the sky, demanding they release him at once. He's running as fast as he can, but he's trapped in place. "I said─" he inhales and his voice gets caught in his throat.

His feet lift off the ground, air currents flow through his wings, picking them up and hoisting him into the air without warning. His mind goes blank and by the time he realizes it, he's a good couple feet in the air. 

This can't be happening. 

He barely has the chance to react; the winds are inconsistent, he's tossed around like a ragdoll mid-air, dangling around. The winds increase and lessen rapidly, not giving him the opportunity to breathe. His feet plant back on the ground and with that, he snaps out of his daze and hurries before he's picked up and thrown around once more. 

If there are sky gods controlling the weather, what businesses do they have toying with him? It's bad enough that he's freezing cold and his limbs are aching, the adrenaline and gusts of wind the only two things stopping him from collapsing then and there. 

An idea comes to mind, one that could get him out of this mess.

He begins to flap his wings, batting against the strong currents he leans forward, certain this is the fastest he's gone. He has a few unsuccessful attempts at taking off, leaping and landing on the ground again, in a puddle or mud that he'll grimace over later. 

This time, he prepares himself for the perfect moment. 

Not yet.

Soon.

Three... two... 

One, and take off.

"What?!" Tubbo raises his head at the sound of flapping, and there in the distance soaring in the sky he spots what he assumes to be a bird. However, it's close enough for him to estimate it's size and to his disbelief, the appearance matches to be a human with wings. A couple feet in the air is a human being that has wings, that's being picked up by the current and takes full advantage of it. 

Lightning crashes, blinding Tubbo at the picture perfect moment. He gets a good look at the person, or whatever it, or they are, before closing his eyes for no more than a second or two. Nonetheless, they have vanished from the sky with the lightning when he opens his eyes. The heavy rain no longer bothers him as he stands there in awe, the faint image permanently ingrained in his mind. What... was that? What...

"What did I just see...?"

Tommy crash landed against his better judgement, he foolishly assumed he had the whole flying thing worked out on his first successful attempt. The mud provides a somewhat soft landing, though having mud smudged on his clothes from head to toe isn't pleasant, he's alive and narrowly avoided any broken bones. That's a bonus, he can give himself a pat on the back for that.

His wings are un-injured, for a second there when the lightning came down and almost gave him a heart-attack with how close it had hit, he thought his wings were struck. The front half of his entire body is covered in mud, but he manages to stand with some difficultly.

He wipes the mud off his face, gagging at his appearance. He slicks back his hair, forgetting his hands are also dripping with mud and gunk. To the right of him there's a ray of hope; his home. He hadn't aimed for it, unable to see through the darkness, but he'd somehow managed to reach his destination. The only downfall; he's covered in mud.

His movements are stiff, the mud weighing him down. The adrenaline has since abandoned him and left him weak, his joints aching his head spins and he lightly sways from side to side. He uses a tree for support, leaving behind a muddy handprint on its hollow body. He takes in short, shallow breaths, his heart weakly pounding against his ribcage. His right arm's a little sore, as his adrenaline leaves him, but he ignores it.

His knees buckle, each action more stiff than the previous, he crosses into his safe haven at last. He uses his last remaining strength to keep himself from collapsing and blacking out that instant. He slumps against the door, closing it behind him and with a heave, drags his feet on the floor to his bed. He isn't the most comfortable, but his body has given up and left him hollow and exhausted, begging for sleep. 

His body gives up; his energy draining entirely, he falls onto his bed with a heavy 'thump'! His limbs go numb. Lying on his stomach, he doesn't have the strength to roll over to a more comfortable position. His wings fall flat against his back and he breathes out a exasperated sigh into his pillow. He breathes slowly, in, out... his chest rising and falling along with the rest of his body, trembling with each breath.

Until his eyes close, and everything stops. 


	5. Arm yourself, a storm is coming

The sun's glare is blinding; Tommy can't see a darn thing. He groans, his body is stiff and it doesn't take long to figure out why; "oh, for fuck's sake," it slipped his mind he'd crash landed into an ocean of mud that stuck to him when he fell asleep. He didn't wash it off, it hardened and clings to him like it's a second layer of skin; refusing to detatch with gentle strokes and brushes. 

A long, disgruntled groan escapes his throat as he leans back onto his bed, he's caught off guard by the soft, fluffy texture he rests on. He rolls on his side and notices the bright, red and yellow feathers inches from his face. He sits up and gawks at them, even now it's hard to wrap his head around the concept of _wings._

He folds them inwards and maneuvering his arm around them, runs his fingers through the feathers; loosening them and getting rid of any dried mud, dust covers his bedsheets in a matter of seconds. 

Satisfied, he stands up. It's difficult to reach certain areas, his wingspan is considerably longer than his arms, and with how large they are he even struggles to move his hand behind them. An idea comes to mind; he can ask someone for assistance, but he immediately dismisses the thought. Sam is the only person, as of right now, who knows about this, and he isn't sure if he wants anyone else to find out. 

If he does come to that conclusion, then obviously the first person would be Tubbo. He'll be bewildered at the news, he can imagine his reaction now; jaw hanging open, eyes popping out of their sockets, the only thing he'll be able to muster is a quiet "what?" Whilst the cogs in his brain turn, and attempt to process the impossible.

Tommy chuckles, that would be funny to see. He glances over his shoulder at the wings, they hang low, the tips brushing against the grass and dirt flooring. The grass is gentle to his wings, the stems tickle, but there's muddy footprints leading from the front doors to the bed. He narrows his eyes and scoffs, but there's nothing else he can do about it. 

He stretches his arms, deciding to head out, and his wings spread out; causing dust to release into the air and get into his nose. Despite his efforts to hold it in, he sneezes and more dust gets flinged into the air. He blocks his nose and his wings fall back down, resting on the ground his feathers have ruffled up a little. He waits for a moment before removing his hand from his nose, and sighs in relief, just for the dust particles to sneak up on him, and make him sneeze once more.

As he does so, his wings shoot up, the ends pointing towards the ceiling. They move so abruptly that it sends almost painful vibrations down his back, his whole body violently shakes for half a second. "Stupid things," he glares at the unresponsive wings attached to his back, that still and draw themselves in. 

He rolls his eyes and look away, to his dismay, his clothes are covered in dried mud. Grumbling under his breath, he walks over to his chest and takes out a water bucket, he hesitates briefly before closing his eyes and pouring it over himself. It leaves him soaking wet and cold, but it does the trick, his clothes are as good as new ( for the most part ). 

His wings have a mind of their own, shivers run through them and start shaking uncontrollably, and the rest of his body is forced to follow. Similar to how a dog violently shakes to dry itself off, his wings have the same mindset. It's an annoying, yet successful process, but he feels the need to curse out his wings. It's a perculiar feeling he can't quite explain; other than they... don't feel like they belong to him. It feels wrong. 

He just hasn't gotten used to them yet.

It's too early to say he ever will.

He sighs, flapping his wings to get off the remaining water droplets. He grabs the jacket lying on one of his chests and brushes it off, he slips it on over his wings. He buttons it tight, but the bottom of his wings are still visible under the jacket. "Damn it," tugging at it does nothing, he can't make his wings any smaller. There's no other substitute, Wilbur's trench coat might have worked... unfortunately, it got ruined in exile. It's still hidden away within his chest, neatly folded, not that he ever thought he'd take it out again. Him wearing it will probably raise a few brows, anyways.

He has no other choice but to put up with the one he has now, although it doesn't quite do the trick. If anyone catches the smallest glimpse of the bright red feathers sticking out, he's screwed; what is he supposed to say, he has a giant bird under there? There's no way he's going to be able to casually wander outside or talk with anyone anymore. Crap, this is a problem.

He moves towards the door, thinking about sneakily making a run to the portal and return to Sam's base, or quickly locate his whereabouts, but as he extends his hand for the doorknob, he freezes. A thought comes to mind, one that might just work. 

His eyes hesitantly glide over the walls as he turns around, and land on a chest. Silently making his way over to it, he goes down on one knee and lifts the lid, and sitting inside is only one item; Wilbur's coat. He carefully takes it out, as if it's made of glass, or the fabric is so weak and torn that one wrong move and it'll all come undone in his hands. He rises to his feet and holds it out in front of him. 

There's an unmistakable clean slice through the back, where a sword had pierced through. He holds his breath and his hands, tightly clasping the shoulders ball into fists. There are more noticeable tears in the coat, the bottom is scorched from when he'd stand on the edge of a bridge in the nether, nonchalantly staring down at the bubbling lava beneath his feet that'd jump up, and singe the worn down fabric. 

He can fix it. Or, he can try to. 

He taught himself how to sew years ago, a young orphan boy growing up depending on his no one but his own had to learn many things in order to survive. How to repair your own clothes so you don't perish to the harsh winters had been one of them, and it continues to come in handy. 

"Sorry, Sam," he mutters, taking off the jacket Sam kindly gifted him. He hasn't done this in a while, since he hid under Techno's house after exile and had to mend his own clothes. His skills are a little rusty, nevertheless he hasn't forgotten how to do it. 

He had to take his time with it, careful not to make any mistakes, he stabbed himself once, twice, not that it stopped him for anymore than a second or two. He mended Wilbur's old coat with pieces from the jacket Sam had given him, so it gained some red patches here and there that matched quite nicely. The colours blended together and the threads were a little wonky, but weren't that noticeable. 

After half an hour of work, he held up the finished product. It didn't look too shabby, if he dare say so himself, he was pleasantly surprised at how it came out. Perhaps he hadn't lost his touch after all. He threw it on and the bottom touched the floor, exactly what he needed. His wings were disguised behind the coat, although it may give off the impression he's smuggling something under it, as well, that's a risk he's willing to take. 

It hides his wings, that's what matters.

Checking that he's wearing it properly, and that it won't slip or anything, he decides to head out. He'll search for Sam, though he doesn't know what he seeks from talking to him, but who else is he to turn to?

Dismissively shaking his head as Tubbo's name comes to mind, he pushes the door open and he can't even step outside before locking eyes with the last person he expected to see standing outside his house. In the short time span that Tubbo is distracted by something in the distance, Tommy wishes he could slam the door shut and pretend this didn't happen, or he could make a run for it and hope he isn't spotted, but he does neither. Tubbo turns his head, and they lock eyes.

Tubbo's face brightens, a familiar glistening smile tugging at his mouth that's almost as bright as the sun, but he can tell something's off. Tubbo isn't just happy to see him, no, he's _ecstatic,_ he definitely has some "great" news to share. He can only imagine what it could be; worst case scenario, he's announcing Snowchester as it's own separate nation.

"Tommy─"

He hadn't intended to shut the door in his face; honestly, his arm just... did it on its own. He faintly hears Tubbo's voice calling out "hey!" And he can't bring himself to open the door, backing away. It isn't locked, it creaks open to reveal Tubbo, who lets himself in and closes it behind him; Tommy doesn't get the chance to utter a word of protest. 

"You won't believe what I saw last night, Tommy!" He beams. 

Tommy sheepishly chuckles, putting out a visibly strained smile he distances himself. He clears his throat when he hits the wall, "uh, I'm _sure_ it's amazing, Tubbo, and you can't wait to tell me─but can't it wait? I'm, uh, pretty busy right now."

Tubbo comes closer, unintentionally trapping Tommy in the corner. He completely ignores him, if he even heard what he said in the first place; what he saw couldn't have been that important. "Tubbo, seriously, I've got stuff to do─"

Tubbo confidently interjects, "you know how there was a storm last night? I saw something─or, uh, someone! With wings, it was hard to make out, I couldn't tell who it was, but they had bright red wings, and they were huge!" He spreads out his arms to scale. 

Tommy's jaw dropped, and his heart might have stopped. There's no one else it could have been, if he'd left out the colour he could've coughed it up to Quackity's grand return; except he can't fly anymore, neither can Phil. His eyes flicker to his coat, his wings are still hidden. One wrong move, however, and he could accidentally out himself.

His lack of response brings down Tubbo's toothy grin, and his gaze drops to the unmistakable brown coat. "Is that...?" 

Tommy slides past with a exasperated sigh. He tugs at the coat's collar, side-eyeing Tubbo, "are you sure you didn't just see a bird or something?" He asks in a monotone voice. He makes his way to the door while he still can, but he doesn't act quick enough, Tubbo hurrying after him like he shouldn't expected. 

Tubbo dramatically gasps, Tommy can't tell if he's genuinely offended or not. He looks it. "It was way too big to be a bird! Like, this big!" He insists, stretching out his arms again as if wanting a hug. Tommy does nothing more than suspiciously raise a brow at him, then turn to the door and reach for the handle. 

Tubbo sticks out his bottom lip in a childish pout, crossing his arms he narrows his eyes. "Come onnn, you have to believe me," he says, sounding just a tad bit annoyed. Tommy doesn't answer, he doesn't even glance at him. Tubbo's expression softens, his mouth curving downwards into a frown. "Tommy, wait," he quietly begs, extending his hand, but before it touches Tommy's shoulder, he stops.

"What is it, Tubbo?" Tommy asks in an impatient tone. Tubbo retracts his hand and Tommy watches, but his reaction is delayed. "Look, I─I've got some stuff to do, help Sam Nook with the hotel and that," he lies through his teeth. Sam Nook has no more tasks for him, he's done all he can and it's up to Sam Nook to begin development on the hotel. 

Tuhbo doesn't know that, though, and he falls for it. "Oh, right! The 'Big Innit Hotel', how's it coming along?" He's quick to flip his frown upside-down, standing by his side. "You gave me an invite when it isn't even finished yet," he says jokingly, the mood lightens up and Tommy's heart doesn't feel as heavy. A small smile even shows itself, he pushes open the door and Tubbo follows him outside.

"It was an invite for when it opens, idiot," he wholeheartedly banters. 

"Oh, okay." It's relieving to see that their interactions haven't changed, of course not. They've known each other for such a long time, some wars among other annoyances may test their friendship, but they both know better. "When is it going to officially open, by the way? Have you started construction yet?"

Tommy lightly scoffs, "no, like I said, I've still got shit Sam Nook wants me to do." He steers clear of the building site in case construction has started, and he'll be forced to eat his words. In all honesty, he has no clue where he's supposed to find Sam; there are a few options he can think of, he's either at his base ( which is unlikely ) guarding the prison, or wandering the SMP. If it's the latter, the area is vast, but he should be able to track him down eventually. If not, he can send a message. 

As a matter of fact, whilst Tubbo goes on about something he isn't listening to, Tommy does just that.

_**You messaged Awesamdude: Sam where are you** _

If he's closeby, the problem of Tubbo still lingers. He can't ditch him even if he wants to, Tubbo may be oblivious at times and a little naive, but if he just deserts him in the middle of a conversation it might come off suspicious. His wings start to itch under the tight wraps of Wilbur's coat, they're begging to be freed, but he can't do that. 

"Tubbo," he interrupts Tubbo's ranting, coming to a halt. "I'm gonna, uh, leave now, Sam Nook needs me, remember?" He tells him, gesturing north. 

"Can I help?" Tubbo requests, and Tommy has to hold back a frustrated groan. 

"No, it's─it's fine, Tubbo, don't you have anything else to do? Like, in Snowchester?"

"Not really, no."

He has to physically turn away from him, massaging his face he sighs to himself. When he looks back at Tubbo, he's smiling, "look, I'll catch you later, okay? It won't take that long, no need to act clingy," he assures, though it comes out more like an order of sorts. He doesn't take anymore chances or waste his time, rushing to get out of there before more complications arise. He just needs to find Sam before anyone else finds him.

Unfortunately, Tubbo never listens.

"Tommy, hold on," he warns softly, and as Tommy walks away, ignoring him, he follows. "Are you okay? You seem so distance, how's your back─"

From the corner of his eye, Tommy catches a glimpse of Tubbo reaching for his back. His fingertips are centimeters from touching the fabric when his wrist is harshly grabbed and yanked, Tommy's sharp claws unknowingly digging into the sensitive skin and draw blood.

"Don't─"

"Ow, Tommy, what the hell!"

Something clicks inside Tommy's head and he withdraws his hand. He's about to protest he 'didn't grab him that hard', but the words die in his throat when something red drips from his nails. It's blood. Not a lot of it, but enough that his stomach churns and his breathing gets shaky. His eyes dart to Tubbo, who's holding his aching, bleeding wrist. Their eyes lock, and all the colour drains from Tommy's face. 

His back starts burning.

"Tommy─"

His head rings, his throat goes dry and he can listen to his heart beat kicking up. "I-I... I've got to go, Tubbo, I─I'll see you soon, alright? Yeah!" He raises his voice as he backs away. He laughs, but it's broken and his words are slurred together by how fast he speaks. He needs to leave, immediately. It doesn't matter where, just anywhere far from here and out of sight.

Tubbo calls out to him as he goes into a sprint, he has to forcibly pull at his coat to prevent the wings from lifting it up and unraveling themselves. There aren't too many places for him to hide, his mind is filled with anxious thoughts and voices that are shouting at him to escape, find Sam, but all he can do is panic. He has nowhere to go, there are people everywhere, watching him. One wrong move and it's all over. 

He pays no attention to his surroundings or where his feet are taking him, solely focusing on keeping his wings under wraps and out of sight. His thoughts are so loud that he doesn't notice the reply on his communicator.

_**Awesamdude messaged you: I am near the prison. Where are you, I'll come to you** _

Alas, he crosses paths with a different friend. By what coincidence does he happen to bump into Sam Nook, of all people while not paying attention to where he's going. Why does he constantly end up coming back to him? Is it because his arms are always open, his warm smile never falters and he literally willingly signed a contract to be his friend?

Perhaps.

"TOMMYINNIT! I WAS JUST ABOUT TO BEGIN CONSTRUCTION ON THE HOTEL, HOW IS YOUR DAY GOING?" His joyful chattering fails for the first time to cheer Tommy up. 

Tommy's movements become sluggish, his breathing grows heavy and hoarse as he staggers to Sam Nook. He grabs Sam Nook's arm with one hand, and tugs at the collar of Wilbur's coat with the other. "Take it off," he wheezes, the intensifying heat swirling around his body steadily becoming too much. 

Sam Nook is left astonished, and worried. "TOMMYINNIT, ARE YOU OKAY?"

Tommy yanks his hand back and swiftly throws off the coat. It drops to the floor and he would've collapsed to his knees if Sam Nook didn't hold him up, and he clung to him like a lifeline. His wings reveled in the freedom and fresh air, fuelling their flames. "Make it stop," he croaks, prying his eyes open to look up at Sam Nook. "Make it stop!"

Cold water washes over him, extinguishing the fire and rinsing off his nerves, his knees buckle and drop him to the floor. He coughs, wiping the droplets off his face. Sam Nook carefully lays the coat over him, giving him a small, reassuring smile behind his mask as he goes down on one knee before him. Tommy struggles to return the smile.

He opens his mouth to speak, but the sound of bushes rustling and rapid footsteps distracts him. He jumps to his feet and whirls around, expecting to find someone standing there, but whoever it was left in a hurry. 

Did... did they see?

"TOMMYINNIT, ARE YOU ALRIGHT?" Sam Nook steps towards him, but Tommy jumps away, meeting his gaze with wide eyes that embark a sense of fear. Sam Nook makes note of a few things that stick out; Tommy's pupils are slit, he apparently has wings that were on fire, he has feathers in his hair, and his long nails that strangely resemble claws are stained a familiar red.

His mouth hanging agape, his teeth are noticeably sharper, too. He gulps and shakes his head, he fidgets and urgently moves his arms into the sleeves of the coat. "Did, did you see who that was, Sam? Who, who saw?!" He asks in a pleading manner, his voice cracking. He rubs his face, and messes up his hair as his breath goes shaky. "I... shit! Tubbo, was that Tubbo? Why did I do that?!" He screams at himself, pulling at his hair, he freezes when he notices his claws. 

"Why did I..." 

He cuts himself off, shaking his head. "Why the fuck did I do that, I-I hurt Tubbo! I made him _bleed!_ "

What erupts from his throat is a sound mixed between a cry, incoherent mumbles as he tries to talk, and a pained groan. These damned wings, he doesn't want them and he never will as far as he's concerned. There's no reason why he should have them, he hates them, if only he could just─"

Sam Nook places a hand on Tommy's shoulder that stops everything. "TOMMY?" He chatters, and in those robotic eyes of his, Tommy finds peace. 

He blinks, running a hand through his hair he manages to calm himself. Covering his face with both hands, he breathes out a heavy sigh. His next words are muffled, so he has to repeat himself, lowering his hands so he makes eye-contact. "Can you... take me to Sam, or just... tell me where he is, please."

Sam Nook thought out his response for a few seconds, then nodded. 

"OF COURSE, TOMMYINNIT."

* * *

"What did I just see, what the _hell,_ " Jack Manifold paces back and forth in his home, unable to think straight with all the confused thoughts running around in his head. He's out of breath from running, he's lucky Tommy didn't see him, but then again he can't be sure. He isn't even certain on what he saw himself, he can't believe it. It isn't unusual for winged beings, there's Philza, and Quackity, but Tommy... Tommy's human.

His mind's a mess. From what he witnessed, Tommy had sprouted wings from his back, that were on fire. His torso was heavily bandaged up, he'd seen it from a distance and he'd like to give himself the benefit of the doubt and say that those wings weren't actually attached to his back... but, Tommy appeared to be in genuine pain. 

So... what did he see?


	6. Well, kid, what you gonna do now?

Tommy can hardly believe his eyes, he's in absolute awe at the bright, golden feathers that remind him of the glimmering sun, they're magnificent and he has to admit, he's jealous. They look so fluffy, but strong, powerful enough to keep Quackity aflight and propel him through the air. He had just watched his friend attempt to soar through harsh winds that tried to knock him down. It's clear a storm is brewing, it'll arrive in roughly half an hour or so, meaning they should be retreating to shelter. Alas, they're doing the exact opposite, and he has no regrets.

After the third attempt, it's a thrilling success, Tommy wishes someone else had been here to witness it alongside him. He couldn't take his eyes off Quackity as he did a runner-up, then leaped into the air and just like that, the strong currents lifted him up and shoved him back, but he fought against it. His large, powerful wings batted against the strong winds. The past two attempts were failures; the first time almost had him doing somersaults mid-air, and the second, he crashed into the ground and landed on his arm. Tommy had rushed to his side in a panic, seeing the pain splash across Quackity's face, only to breathlessly insist he's alright, and got back up to give it another try.

Tommy had been anxious this would result in another crash landing, and he prepared himself to catch him. Alas, he needn't worry about that.

Because the exact moment the winds calmed down, Quackity grapped his chance by it's throat and pushed himself forward. Now, the winds would obey him, aiding in his flight, the forming storm unfazed him. Tommy snapped out of his daze, and noticing he was about to be left behind, ran after him. 

Quackity flew higher up, gliding with ease, he leaned to the right and turned himself upside down, then the right way up again. Tommy couldn't find the words to describe the pure talent; incredible, spectacular were underestimating his abilities. Tommy did his best to catch up, but the weather even pushed him back a bit, and Quackity was just too fast. In a matter of weeks, he'd learned how to bend the currents to his will, he knew so much about the weather and how it works; the winds, even the tides, everything about the sky; he adored it, Tommy could see it in his face whenever he talked about it, and he couldn't resist rambling on. He found it a little embarrassing, but Tommy loved it. 

He wanted wings, too. 

Quackity couldn't stay in flight forever, noticing Tommy chasing after him he chuckled and came in for landing. Getting yourself to fly is one thing, but landing is entirely different; you can't perfect one without the other. Thankfully, he'd already practiced it many times before, and in this condition they needed the least amount of risks. 

"I've got you!"

Not thinking twice, Tommy opens his arms to catch Quackity. 

"Tommy, no!"

Quackity tried to delay his landing, but couldn't. He had no time to change course, and thus, the two of them collided. Upon impact, they bumped heads and Tommy lost his balance, falling to the ground. Quackity managed to plant his feet securely on the ground, though stumbled a little. "Tommy! Did, did you realize how dangerous that was?!"

Rubbing his throbbing head, Tommy groans and sits up. Staring at Quackity in silence, his eyes widen and a wide grin spreads across his face. He jumps to his feet and runs to his side; "that was amazing, big Q!!" He gushes, his blinding excitement a huge contrast to the worsening storm around them. 

Quackity blinks, dumbfounded; then, lets out a little chuckle. "I... I guess it was, yeah... yeah!" He raises his voice, grinning from ear-to-ear. "I did it! Ha, I actually did it!" He pumps his fists into the air and yells, and thunder echoes out. He turns to Tommy, sharing the overhyped enthusiasm, and they burst into laughter. 

The crackling sound of thunder silences them. The sky above them is dangerous; there's a storm in the making, the dark, gloomy clouds have replaced the peaceful light blue scenery. They block out any light asides from the flashes of lightning that split open the sky. It's frightening, a loose bolt could strike the ground and possibly them, but at the same time they can't tear their eyes away; it's ethereal. 

"Come on," Quackity speaks up, resting his hand on Tommy's shoulder. "Let's get out of here, we can come back tomorrow."

That had been the last time Tommy saw Quackity soar, Tubbo exiled him shortly after. When he eventually made his return and reunited with Quackity, things had changed. He never smiled as often, his ecstatic, joking personality that Tommy enjoyed had faded away; he lost a part of himself somewhere along the way. His right eye was heavily scarred and blinded, but he never told Tommy the cause. The worst thing of all, he lost the ability to fly. His wings were somehow damaged, so badly that they were too weak to lift him into the air other than a couple feet. He didn't tell Tommy how that happened, either, and a rift formed between them. 

His wings were precious to him; they were a special, delicate part of him that he held dear, and the one thing he loved the most had been mercilessly ripped from his grasp. Understandably, he wasn't the same afterwards. 

It gave Tommy mixed emotions; anger at whatever, or whoever did this, sympathy and grief towards his loss, and overall he wasn't sure how to deal with it, or help. So they ended up drifting apart, Quackity disappeared once Dream was locked away in prison, and... he hasn't been back since. No one knows where he went, he can only hope wherever he is, he's happy. 

Now, with wings of his own, his senses are alerted; he can feel every feather, it's the same as another limb. They're sensitive, and fragile. They're immune to crimson flames that swallow him whole, he fears what's able to hurt him. He isn't prepared, he reminds himself of a baby bird that isn't ready to leave the nest, it depends on it's mother whilst remaining high in the treetops where it's safe. He doesn't have a parent to rely on, who'll take care of him and teach him how to survive, how to _fly._

He has nobody but himself. 

He wonders if he's bothering Sam; coming back here and begging for assistance; like a harmless, baby bird left on it's own; it desperately cries to be heard. Surely there has to be anyone else who he can go to, but there isn't. Sam has helped him enough already, and he can't rid himself of the guilt inside the pit of his stomach, eating him up. Sam could be busy, and he'll just be bothering him, getting in the way. What can Sam even do to help, anyways?

He knows a bit about wings, he pointed out what type he had; active soaring. He informed him he's a phoenix, which he wouldn't have been able to find out himself. He likely would've panicked upon seeing his wings were on fire if it weren't for Sam. He can't go to Tubbo, not after he accidentally hurt him with his claws; he can't risk doing it again. Maybe Sam can help file them down, they're way too sharp. 

No, he shouldn't. He doesn't need Sam's help with everything, there's got to be things he figures out on his own. 

"Tommy?"

Sam Nook told him where he could find Sam, keeping an eye on the prison. They're a short distance away, but from here it's unnerving, knowing that Dream lies inside. There's no way he's ever escaping, that's a guarantee. He's safe, Dream can't hurt him anymore, he's visited him before and... it went okay, nothing ultimately bad happened. However, he doesn't plan on seeing that green bastard again anytime soon. 

He has the coat on, his wings catching on fire didn't cause any harm to it. They've relaxed now, flattened against his back, but he feels some of the feathers stick up at the sight of the prison, like the hairs on the back of his neck. His eyes dart to Sam, and he snaps himself out of his daze. He gulps, "uh... hey, Sam." 

What did he come here for, again? "I... uh, well you see..."

"Is it wing troubles?"

He hates how that sounds. They're a part of him, he has to accept that from now on, but it's so unfamiliar to him. He can't forget he has them, because of how much trouble they cause, and yet it somehow slips his mind that they're fully fleshed out wings that are attached to him, and are permanent. For the time being, at least... he can imagine how painful it'd be to lose them, so he doesn't plan on doing that anytime soon. 

He doesn't need to answer, Sam can see straight through him and he doesn't know whether to be relieved, or anxious. He's both. 

"Can't you ask Phil about this? Since he has wings, I'm sure he'll be a bigger help than me," he suggests. Tommy's sure he's already given his opinion on the matter.

Phil isn't his friend, far from it. He's no more than a person he has no close connections to, and Wilbur's biological father who...

"I don't need Phil! I can just go to you for stuff!" He snaps; although he doesn't intend to come off as rude, he can't avoid it. As soon as the words leave his mouth, his expression softens and he wishes he could've phrased it differently, in a less stuck-up kind of way. 

"Like... what?"

He hunches his shoulders and looks away, rubbing his arm. "I don't know! I don't know what I'm supposed to do, these just, came out of nowhere! I don't even know how to fly!" His wings tense under the coat, and his whole body freezes up. If he isn't careful, they could spread out and rip the material, then he'll have nothing. 

"Well, yeah, you did just get them... wait, did, did you want me to teach you how to fly?"

Silence. 

"I don't have wings, Tommy."

"I know!" He's louder than he means to be. His wings are stiff, but he flattens them over his ribcage and lightly tugs at the coat. It's all he's wearing asides from bandages covering his torso, and they're hard to contain; how is he supposed to wear layers? "I-I know, but I just... can't go to Phil, alright? Anyone but him, Sam. You're... the only guy I've got, there's Tubbo but I... I don't wanna worry him with this, I'm sure he's got other, more important stuff to focus on." 

"And I don't?"

He flinches. So does Sam, quickly stepping closer he holds out his hands in front of him. "No, I-I didn't mean it like that! Honestly!" He defends, genuine nervousness in his voice. He lowers his hands, and behind his mask, Tommy can make out his sympathetic gaze. He's unsure how to feel about it; he's never been pitied before, and out of everything he's been through, this isn't the worst. "I meant... Tubbo might be a little busy, but he's your best friend, Tommy. He cares about you, you know that, right? You shouldn't be afraid to reach out to him. You just told me you depend on him."

His mind is blank. His eyes drop to his hands, more specifically his claws, or talons, that's what they're called when referring to birds, right? Not that he would call himself one. The bloodstains under them are still faintly visible, he's reminded of when he grabbed Tubbo's wrist by accident, and the warm liquid dripped down. 

He feels nauseous, his stomach churns and he's lightheaded. 

"Tommy?" 

He backs away, taking in a shaky breath. He shakes his head and shoves his hands into his pockets, "no! I... I can't tell Tubbo, understand me? Don't, don't tell him. Please, Sam, keep this a secret between us," he quietly pleads. He closes his eyes, waiting for the symptoms to settle down and disappear. "Sam!"

"Okay, okay... I promise, Tommy. I won't tell anyone, especially Tubbo."

It isn't until then that Tommy notices he's been holding his breath, and he releases it. His wings flutter and the knot in his chest is unfortunately, still there, as are the murming thoughts in his head. 

_**"What if Tubbo finds out?"** _

_**"What if he's afraid of you?"** _

_**"Does Sam find you annoying?"** _

He wants nothing more than to make them all shut up; but he isn't able to. There are instances when they get so loud, it's insufferable, but he can't do anything about it. He knew he shouldn't have come here, Sam doesn't have wings, it's just bothersome. 

"Tommy," he places a hand on his shoulder and his muscles tense. "I'll do what I can, alright? I'll try my best, but there'll be things I can't fix, okay? I still want you to consider talking to Phil."

He's reluctant. Phil blew up L'manberg alongside Techno, and they both sided with Dream... the demon who caused him never-ending pain. Whatever possible friendship they had a chance at is long gone, wilted beyond recover. If he talks with Phil, then there's the likely possibility of Techno being close by, and they could bump into each other. He promised to make amends with the piglin after their last encounter, when he broke into his house and stole stuff for his upcoming battle to the death with Dream. He hasn't interacted with him since. He doubts Techno cares, or remembers. 

"Tch, fine," Tommy mutters, looking away. The knot inside his chest tightens, he ignores it. A hand ruffles his hair, messing it up a few loose strands stick up. "Hey!"

Sam removes his hand and laughs. In between his fingers is a feather, he tucks it behind Tommy's ear. "So, you want to fly, right?" 

Tommy eagerly nods. "Yeah!" The last time he flew had been in the raging storm, and he struggled to hold himself up. He was tossed around like a ragdoll, his arm still hurts after that rough landing. He didn't stand a chance, he took his shot and tried to demand the currents like Quackity had done, he was denied and mocked by the sky. Rejected and ridiculed, a baby bird cannot learn how to soar on it's first day of life. 

He wishes he could say the experience had been thrilling nonetheless, taking flight for the first time; but it'd been more so the opposite. He had no idea what was going on, with no time to recollect himself his only thoughts were to keep himself in the air, and alive. The winds had tested his strength and he failed miserably. They casted him aside and told him; "try again". 

And you bet he will. 

"I have an idea where we can begin, then."


	7. It's your reflection looking back to pull you down

"Jack! Jack, are you here?" Tubbo calls out, storming into Jack Manifold's house. He's ecstatic, recalling the storm and winged figure he witnessed take flight. He knows for a fact that the only two winged being he's familiar with; Quackity and Phil, cannot fly after receiving injuries to their wings. Meaning that either; they learnt how to fly again, or it's someone new. People don't suddenly grow wings out of nowhere, although that's what they all thought happened with Quackity, so it has to be a stranger.

The idea is thrilling; it's not that newcomers are uncommon, Hannah and Foolish turned up a couple months ago. That makes the possibility of it being somebody new plausible, because it hadn't been a bird. Now, this stranger can either appear when they feel welcome, or they could seek them out ─ better yet, because they'd been seen around the community, someone could have already met them. That's what he's hoping to find out. 

It's far too early to make assumptions, but he can't help it. Their wings were so gorgeous, he's seen Phil's and Quackity's up close a few times, they were different from their colour to texture and shape. He thought those were jaw-dropping, but the wings he caught a glimpse of reminded him of lava, a dark red fading into orange and yellow. It made him think of a sunset, and oh, he couldn't wait to see them again. 

"Jack! Where are you?"

"A'ight, calm down! I'm coming!" A voice calls out, followed by footsteps coming from above. Mere seconds later, Jack comes down the stairs and Tubbo is too excited to notice the perplexed look on his face. "What is it? What's got you bouncing off the walls?" He asks, stopping before him, he adjusts his headset. 

Tubbo fails to hide his excitement, not that he tries. Jack somewhat anxiously awaits his response, and when he tries to get more words in, he's interrupted. "You know how there was this big storm earlier, right? I was out looking for Tommy and, I spotted somebody _flying!_ Can you believe that? Like, flying with wings! Like, how Quackity and Phil have them, but it wasn't either of them! These were a different colour, it was so cool!"

Tubbo startled rambling on uncontrollably, Jack could hardly make out a word he said. He firmly grabbed Tubbo by his shoulders, forcing him to stay still. "Tubbo, slow down! What are you saying? Rephrase it to me ─ slower, this time, so I can actually understand you."

Tubbo nodded, and slipped out of his grasp. His face lit up again with glee as he resumed, looking anywhere but at him. "There's someone new visiting! They have wings, bright red ones! I couldn't really see them well, because of the storm and that, and they flew off before I could greet them!" He explains, then pauses and turns to Jack. "So, I was wondering if you perhaps saw them? I'm sure someone did."

Tubbo's smile faltered at the lack of response. "Jack? Are you listening to me?"

There's no way they're thinking of the same person. He'd been contemplating whether to tell someone, and here's the chance. He can't be sure on what he saw, he swore Tommy had wings; he couldn't tell if they were red, they were fully engulfed in a raging scarlet flame. If he did have wings, he didn't anymore. Perhaps the flames had just resembled wings, but at the same time, fire doesn't work like that. Who knows what he saw, because he doesn't. 

He stiffens, and keeps his voice calm as possible. He raises a brow, "you sure you didn't just see a huge ass bird?" He questions. He releases his breath when Tubbo reacts immediately, ignoring how he previously acted. 

"Wha─the only birds I've seen around are parrots, and this was very clearly a person!" He loudly defends.

Jack shrugs, turning away. "You say that, but there was a thunderstorm and you couldn't see properly, right?"

The offended gasp Tubbo gives him almost makes him crack a smile. He stumbles on his words, and Jack resists a chuckle. "You have a point, but─"

Jack jumps at the opportunity, a smirk crossing his face he points an accusing finger at Tubbo. "Aha! You admitted it, you couldn't really see if it was a person, correct?" The dejected expression Tubbo wears catches him off guard, it wipes his smirk off clean.

Should he tell him?

There's no predicting how he'll react. Out of all people, it's Tommy; he'll be shocked, and confused, most likely in disbelief because Tommy is meant to be a human. There's no way after all this time, he's been hiding wings of that size. It's impossible, so him suddenly having them now doesn't add up. He still can't wrap his mind around it, he doubts Tubbo will have it better. 

He'll likely figure it out on his own. Tommy can't hide those wings forever, after all, the truth is bound to be revealed eventually. Unless he's mistaken, he'll find out for himself the next time he crosses paths with the blonde. He'd been with Sam Nook near the hotel's building site, there's no telling where he's hiding. 

"I'm... sure it was a person. I've seen Quackity's and Phil's wings, these were... different, but..." Tubbo trails off, bringing Jack out of his thoughts and into reality. Staring at his feet with furrowed brows, he opens his mouth to continue, but no words are heard. He sighs and raises his head, looking at Jack in his eyes with a deepening frown. "I'm sure of it. You'll ask around, right? Someone else could have seen them, and that'll prove it." 

Jack's reluctant to answer, but he doesn't have time to keep silent. He nods, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Sure, big guy." 

This can't be good.

* * *

"Ow! Be careful, would ya?"

Tommy reaches behind his back, but his wings are in the way. 

Sam sighs, "you have so many broken feathers. You must've had quite the rough landing." He's tending to Tommy's feathers, and they didn't hurt that much until Sam started touching them. Apparently, even though fire isn't enough to harm them, one crash landing breaks more than a handful. 

He huffs, resting his chin on his knuckles. He glances over his shoulder, brows furrowed and lip pursed into a pout. "I thought you said you were going to teach me how to fly," he complains. They were about to begin his lesssons, staring small from jumping off a tree, but Sam noticed his pin feathers and paused everything immediately.

Sam pays little attention to his whining, carefully taking care of his feathers. Apparently it's very important, he mentioned how rarely birds can die from bloodloss due to pin feathers, or broken feathers in other words, and Tommy reminded him of all the blood _he_ lost during the transformation. A couple drops of blood isn't going to harm him. He fell silent at that. 

Tommy's gone through a hell of a lot, the constant wars, exile... but that graphic memory takes the cake. They're clean of his blood now, but the colour isn't too far off. He doesn't take his eyes off them, watching the small amount of blood trickle down. 

A sharp pain shoots through him, and a cry is stuck in his throat. 

"I-I'm sorry!" Sam panics, holding a bloodied broken feather in between his fingers. "I didn't mean to, honestly," he apologizes. One feather, he removed one tiny feather and the sensation of pulling out a handful all at once hit him like a truck. His wings had instinctively shielded him, they did that on their own. Again, it seems like they have a mind of their own, it doesn't feel... right.

Isn't he supposed to be used to it by now?

He relaxes, his wings lowering themselves. He reluctantly turns his back to Sam again so he can continue, though he can't ignore the tingles travelling up his arms, making his hairs stand up. He sharply inhales when Sam gets back to work, gently running his hands over his wings and searching for pin feathers. "I shouldn't pull them out, so I think I'll wrap them in bandages and let them heal on their own."

Tommy flinches, he doesn't think twice; jumping to his feet. "I'm already covered in bandages!" He shouts, gesturing to his exposed torso, which is still evidently snugly covered in bandages. "If you cover my wings, then I won't be able to fly!" 

Sam doesn't argue, no matter how loud or annoying he gets, he remains calm and transparent the whole time. It's baffling, how he constantly puts up with his rude attitude without snapping once. He's never met a more patient man. 

He stands up so they're face-to-face, and although he's wearing his mask; it's painfully obvious there's no frustration to his reaction. He has such a deep, yet soft-spoken voice that sounds like a gentle lullaby; able to soothe any tempered soul. Tommy doesn't notice his feathers have ruffled up until they flatten with his changing mood. 

"Tommy, I know this is confusing for you, and there's a lot you don't understand. You need to take it slow, and easy, or you could get hurt; you already have." He has a point, as much as Tommy hates to admit. Sam places a hand on his shoulder, and weakly smiles. "I'll do my best to help you, and if teaching you how to fly is what you want, then... I'll give it a shot, but you can't rush into things, Tommy, especially not in this situation."

Regret crawls into his stomach, it makes its home there. He returns the smile, but it only lasts for a few seconds, then disappears without a trace. He awkwardly averts his gaze, lowering his head and hunching his shoulders. "Yeah... I guess you're right," he mumbles. "Sorry," he whispers, and it goes unheard.

His wings fold in on him, the feathers brush against his neck. He can't find the right word to describe his feelings towards them; to put it in simple terms, he wishes they weren't there. If anyone finds out about this; they'll praise him, no doubt, they'll be speechless at first for the same reason he'd been, but that's change into admiration. They're beautiful, and that's all they'll pay attention to. They won't understand the unbearable pain he went through, and if he brings up how they make him uncomfortable, he bets his diamonds they'll go; "why? You should be happy, not everyone gets to grow wings!"

Yeah, and they're lucky. 

"I'm back," Sam pipes up, followed by approaching footsteps that snap Tommy out of his thoughts. He didn't realize he left, abandoning him here with his secret exposed; when anyone could accidentally stumble across them. He stomaches his frustration at the thought. Sam has a roll of bandages in his hands. Right. 

He sits down, facing away from Sam. "I'll be careful," he assures, Tommy hums. He stays true to his word, the bandages aren't silky smooth, but the texture isn't too unpleasant. They don't heavily restrict his movement, he checks to make sure. They're quite heavy, mostly dragging on the ground, but thankfully the bandages don't add to the weight. He managed to take off the ground previously, with the help of powerful winds. There's no telling if he'll be able to accomplish his goal in calmer weather; it's pretty peaceful now, for instance, the perfect opportunity to test that theory. 

They'll have to wait until later. 

Tommy lets his mind wander; jumping between ideas and mindless thoughts that come out of nowhere. They distract him from reality and the slight pinpricks of pain. He's mesmerized by the sky, fluffy clouds passing overheard. A gut feeling blooms, his pupils dilate with increased interest and he wants to outstretch his hands to grab a fistful of the snowy white balls of fluff. His wings stiffen up and move into position, his body aches to start moving. He feels Sam's hands freeze up at the sudden movement, but he doesn't say anything. 

He desires flight that comes with a sense of freedom. Within the clouds, no one can reach him; he'll be safe. A gentle breeze blows through his hair, and it almost pushes him over the edge. His wings are desperate to flap, they're restrained by both him and the bandages that have grown a little tighter. He needs to soar, he has to.

But he cannot. He must obey Sam's instructions, if he acts too carelessly he can seriously endanger himself. Although every thought is screaming at him to do it, he resists.

The wildlife plays a luring tune; the wind blows through the trees, rustling the leaves and howling into his ears. There aren't many animals in this area, and yet he hears the flapping of wings. The sun calls for him, and he can't tear his eyes away. The breeze hums to him with a message; "join us, follow your heart's desire and let us carry you."

"Tommy, I need you to stay still," Sam's voice cuts through. Tommy peers over his shoulder, his wings expanded and unraveled themselves from the bandages that are loosely hanging on.

"Sorry," he whispers, lowering them. Sam resumes, and he drifts into his thoughts. 

His mind is a mess, a maze that he has trouble navigating. It's difficult to focus solely on one thought, but one in particular sticks out to him. He remembers what Sam had told him earlier when he asked for guidance; _"can't you ask Phil about this? Since he has wings, I'm sure he'll be a bigger help than me."_

Perhaps it hadn't been such a bad idea after all. 


End file.
